• THE GOOD SIDE • A Thomas Shelby Fanfic •

2

"You don't have to be so rude." I mumble, pressing my cloth full of alcohol over his skin. It took me some time to get rid of the swelling of his wounds, whoever dealt with his injuries didn't seem to do a good job. Nearly caught an infection on half of them. He's got his eyes set on me, a look of pure evil and shamelessness. I wonder if he even knows that he's as heavily intoxicated from the whiskey and morphine. The combination should have him ready to pass out, but he looks at me with attentiveness.

I stare at his open wounds, still trying to piece together the reason as to why a priest out of all people would hurt him this way. He seems like he's short tempered, but I cannot understand why a fucking priest, someone who practices to not harm thy neighbour would do such a thing. I almost get lost in the thought, convincing myself that perhaps it was a drunken slip up. Perhaps Mr. Shelby did something to stupid and actually asked to be hurt in such a way.

"Where are you from?" He stirs up conversation, stunning me.

"Me?" I ask, although I know damn well that there is no one else in the room.

He scoffs. "Yes."

"Um, I'm from London."

"What are you doing in a town as small as this one?" He clears his throat, trying to hide the pain. I know it hurts far too much for him to keep his calm so well, but thats when the whiskey and morphine come into play, its helping him tremendously.

I pull back, looking down at this shirtless man who is covered in his own blood. He wears trousers that stop right at his knees, he's fairly thin, but there is he appears to be the size of a beast. It's hard to explain, he has the aura of a manly, buffed out man. A beast of some sort, despite looking harmless. He smells whiskey and smokes, he should be unconscious by now. For heavens sakes, he should be dead! But he continues to interrogate me like I'm the one with in shackles. Not that he is in shackles, no, to be frank, Thomas is privileged enough to be sat up in a bed comfier than the one in my bloody home.

I note the man before me. He's gotten some sort of surgery done on his head, he bares wounds much worse than the ones I've been tending to. My eyes get lost, who the hell are you?

"How did you get in here?" I whisper, my eyes lingering. Asking a question I would normally have no issue in asking makes me choke up, he's intimating to say the least.

"I asked the guards if they wanted to live. It was simple really." He looks away. "You don't know who I am do you?"

My mouth gets dry, my hair falls over the side of my face and I'm quick to pull myself back and pull my hair back into a tight bun. "Am I supposed to?"

Again, a clear, swift scoff. "Have you heard of the Blinders, Alene?" He asks, looking up at me. One thing about this man is that he cannot keep his eyes off of me. Its almost like he's drawn to me, never allowing his eyes to leave mine.

I shake my head. "I'm not much into sports teams."

A laugh erupted out of his mouth, sloppy and fast. "You're funny."

"Thank you." I murmur, moving onto the deep bruise over his stomach. "Hey, feel free to tell me why a priest would beat you up this bad, I mean if it were because you made sexual comments about his daughter then I get it but-"

I suck in a breath the moment his large hand comes down on my neck. It takes me a moment to realize and conclude that he is trying and succeeding in choking me. Wrapping around my skin, squeezing me. I feel as though my eyes may just pop out of my head as I gasp, my medical kit sits beside me. My mind runs around in circles as I tell myself to reach for my scalpel and stab him, I've done it before. Kill or be killed, that's what the warden and nurses working here taught me. I've never used my medical tools as weapons, although tempted to. I haven't brought myself the courage to, but as I can feel my breaths getting shorter do I feel myself getting really close to. I open my mouth, my eyebrows pulling together as I narrow my gaze at this man.

He stares into my eyes, his narrowed and direct.  "Who the fuck told you about the priest?" He asks, sitting up from his laid position. Thomas yanks me into him, I squeeze my eyes shut. Hoping to God he lets go of me soon.

I reach out urgently for my medical kit, knowing I have a scalpel in there, ready to lunge it at him. My throat closes, my eyes sting. I can feel my skin getting hotter and hotter, almost as if I'm in a boiling hot pot of water.

He shakes me the moment I have a thin sharp metal object in my hands, dropping the thing to the floor. I look down at the scalpel that sits by me feet, fuck.

Again, Thomas shakes me, gathering back my attention. "How do you know about the priest?!"

"The guard." I croak, my voice sounding faint. I grab his wrist and try to rip his grip from mine. "The guard-It was the guard."

The moment he got his answer he drops his hand from my neck and I take a step back, letting out various coughs and gags. I try to breathe, but quicker than I ever expected myself to react, I reach for my medical kit and begin packing my things up. I have nothing on my mind except escaping his doom.

Thomas reaches for me, grabbing my arms to hold me up from falling, which I hadn't known I was going to. I'm winded. "I'm sorry. 'Ey, look at me." He grabs my jaw with his massive hand. Forcing me to look at him. "I thought you worked for him. I'm sorry."

"Fuck off of me..." My shove him wearily and press my hand against my burning hot neck. He tries again to reach for me, but I put up my hand. "Don't."

"Fuck, listen, will you?" He tells me, laying down on his bed. Thomas grabs the vile of morphine and gathers a few drops of it into a spoon. Unfazed by the pain he's brought me, he drinks his medicine. "I need to stay away from him, as long as possible. Until I'm better. I must heal here, far away from the likes of him."

Silence fills the small room we are in. I feel so violated and hurt, I can't even wrap my head around what had just happened to me. I breathe, feeling immense pain each time I draw in and out a breath.

"I need you to swear you'll keep me safe in here." He croaks. "I'm a valued man to the city of Birmingham and I promise you, if you keep me alive. I'll owe you my life."

I shake my head, what he's saying is madness. I'm not much of a crier, but all I want is to shed a few tears in the restroom.

"Alene, please." He winces, cupping his side. "I would beg but I'm not in good health."

"You tried to kill me!" I shake my head. Unable to understand his logic.

He leans in, "I thought you were the enemy!"

I don't know if it's sympathy, compassion, empathy or just plain fucking delirium, but I can feel my head bobbing up and down before the large doors to his room creak open.

A man, the man, the guard clears his throat. "Your nephew is here to see you, Tommy."

I turn my head and stare at the guard who I had just ratted on. One of the inmates taught me about the religious rule of tattle-tailing. I remember dealing with his stab wound, and when I had asked him what happened he explained that he had been the one to snitch. That he deserved it. And now I picture the guard getting a knife forced into his neck.

I turn back to Thomas and urgently plead with him, "He didn't mean to tell me about the priest."

"It's fine." He responds, overlooking me. "Let him in." He adds.

I grab my kit, ready to leave when a hand falls on my wrist. "Alene," Thomas tells me. "My life is your hands now."

Fucking hell. What have I gotten myself into.

I snake away from him, ready to get the fuck out of here. "I'll stop by daily. Your bandages will need to be changed." Everything is a mere croak, "I come by once a day, if there is anything different, feel free to ask one of the guards to bring your sudden illnesses to my attention."

"Right."

Shutting my box, I take a step back. "I'll see you tomorrow." I cant do anything except whisper.

"See you then."

Making my way to the door, I open it and make my way outside just as a gentleman and the guard enter the room. I'm quick to lower my gaze, again, my mind set on leaving the building as soon as possible. Its the moment I alone do I feel my back fall against the wall and let out a sigh louder than life. I can feel my neck strain, my shoulders up tight. What have I gotten myself into? It's a question I fail to answer.